Herausforderer
by Walking Lolsaster
Summary: She could never forget those first few weeks of the war and did everything to distance herself from it. But when a rogue witch finds her, a chain of events brings her old squad looking, and forces her to confront the past... and the present. Modern AU with OC(s), Yuri themes and angst. Rated T for now. Give it a chance after the Prologue!
1. Prologue

**At this point I have noooooo clue what I am doing since this is my first story and upload, so hopefully I don't mess anything up. :s**

**Quick disclaimer: Don't own Strike Witches cause life is cruel!**

**Let's see how this goes... be sure to review and if you want to pop me a tip or something, thanks.**

_Prologue_

* * *

An apocalyptic scene lay before her eyes, one that she became accustomed to in these days and weeks of never ending war and destruction.

The French sky, dark but flickered and streaked with the colours of fire. Red... orange... bright yellow sparks appearing in flashes along the horizon as another section of the once vibrant coast became char and ash.

As she continued to scan this new world, the more she noticed the many wrecks of military vehicles and civilian alike. The army camps and installations wore the same dress of the homes and businesses that once flourished and thrived together:

A dress of rubble and seared glass.

She was too young for this. For all of this. Her fragile mind, a fragile mind of a child, no longer held the thoughts that one of her age should hold. The mental agony of witnessing death, destruction and pain wrecked havoc with her, so much so that she could no longer perform he task to protect those vulnerable to what she was viewing.

The girl of eleven years struggled to keep flight as her uncontrollable emotions began to interfere with her magic.

Her magic mingled with her senses, amplifying the scene before her into a nightmare that no child should ever bare witness to. The rivers appeared as red as her hair, the cries of panic and despair become wild like the spiked tips.

She began to wonder whether her eyes would evolve to a colour that now dominated the once green landscape, would that mark a beginning of the end of her already fragile sanity? Would she become one of them? One of the merciless, metallic beings that appeared out of no where, which roamed Europe without a thought of who and what they were eradicating... exterminating.

Her prototype Me 262 Strikers groaned and hissed at the magical fluctuations. A Striker unit of such age was not accustomed to this sort of starvation, it's greedy gasps for magical essence began to tire it's user more and more, the Striker would need more because of this, and more and more... a vicious cycle which would lead to only one conclusion unless the girl could focus and retreat to safety.

* * *

The dubbed 'Second Dunkirk Evacuation' would not be remembered as a miracle unlike its historic counterpart. The unrelenting Neuroi advances and attacks brought devastation to the surrounding evacuation vessels. Whether it be in the air or on sea, civilian or military, anything and everything would be targeted by random Neuroi that would seem to appear out of no where, seeming coming to existence the second any passenger believed that they had been able to board hope and salvation.

The retreat was never planned, nor was it expected. The shock and awe from the Neuroi staggered everyone, never mind their appearance from out of the blue, slap bang in the centre of the European heartland that Summers day on June 2nd 2009. 11:13am from that day would be forever known in the hearts and minds of many, if humanity were to survive.

It had taken only two weeks for the United Nations forces to be hurtled to the French coast. The irony of the event stuck with many... an evil rising from the mainland, pushing back the allied forces to a location remembered for its darkest days in history.

It seemed that it was playing out all over again...

Countless dead, resources lost and unattainable, countries swamped with red and black 'machines' feeding on the land below it.

Would it even be a home to come back too if we were to ever succeed in our goals to liberate Europe...

Even the word liberate was a word used lightly. What was so liberating about recovering a lifeless husk from hive entity?

The leaders of the world, knowing that an evacuation needed to be under taken, threw everything at the effort. Almost every single Man, women and witch were fighting, with many of the remaining European countries armour and weaponry aimed directly at the Neuroi to slow them down, just long enough, to save many...

Many became few.

Britain, with Russia as a firm resister and America and Japan from afar, would once again the nations that would determine the course of history...

And the fate of humanity.

* * *

Her stamina continued to fade as she headed towards her mentor.

Yui was the one who found her that day a year ago as she lived on the German streets, begging and stealing food to live in a world where kindness and charity became unique and hard to find.

Yui gave her a home and a goal in life, to protect and fight for her home nations of Germany and Britain, despite them and it's people never giving any thing or little back

Yui gave her the WWII era Striker unit where her squad would refuse, and for that, she was grateful to her for the chance she gave to really prove herself.

But Yui gave her something that never experienced in her short life:

A family.

For her, Yui was like a mother to her, while her comrades played the part of sisters and cousins.

The connection between the two amplified each other, their magic working together perfectly. Their styles blended and compromised in a way Striker wings would only dream of having. Yui's dragon familiar and her Bombay cats' familiar attuned in a way a mothers and daughters would. The protection and the attachment was strong between them, never being seen apart.

Her senses led her closer to Yui, her dwindling power allowing her to evade the senses of the Neuroi who had more pressing matters to attend to, if they had those feelings that is. Even from here she could hear Yui fighting and the clatter of swords...

Swords?

That couldn't be right, could it? Either her fatigue began to effect her mental state to the point where she was imagining swords fights, or one of the team decided to spar in the middle of a war-zone.

Surely?

She had heard stories and rumours of Neuroi who were humanoid instead of imitations of human craft or other mostly randomly shaped objects. All though humanoid, the never acted human at all, preferring to kill them in a more barbaric way than a glowing cuboid ever could.

Could it be that such things were true?

What would that even mean? Their imitations of old and modern fighter planes already confirmed a suspicion of intelligence within these aliens, were they even aliens? They were more metallic and crystalline than skin and bone, in fact, it was all they showed... their heart being a core within a superstructure, far to complex to comprehend or understand without every theory being written off or questioned...

It could just be that they were rogue AI from some distant part of the Galaxy, consuming all that it could find... all a path of evolution, or a choice chosen by a highly intelligent species...

But they were all theories, no one could prove them or at least justify them.

That's what made the Neuroi frighting to some... something that you cannot hope to understand before they annihilate you.

The girl snapped back into reality just in time to see her teachers body receive a fatal, deep cut to its chest... and those eyes...

Those soul scorching, red metallic eyes:

Claire Herausforderer, awoke in the school library, noticing the small crowd that had gathered around her to make her day a tad bit more difficult.

"_Still... could be worse_" She thought, thinking back to the nightmare that played out every time she closed her eyes.

"Oi! Are you ever gonna take that eye patch off?!"

* * *

_Prologue End_

**I think that'll do for now. I wanted to get a prologue done just to get me motivated to try and continue this, and to see if this would get any reviews, maybe even a follow or two if I'm lucky xD**

**This could be fun...**


	2. Rogue

**So... the first chapter... lets try and make this a tad bit longer then the prologue. Not too good with this yet but I'll see what I can do.**

**Again, don't own Strike Witches... yadda yadda.**

**Try and enjoy!**

* * *

Outside it was a crisp, winters day. No matter how much the sun shone onto the large school complex. the cool temperature remained a stubborn few degrees above zero, and the bitter wind did little to keep the students warm as their ageing coats, some simple raincoats, became ineffective and flimsy.

Overcrowding was already becoming a major issue before the war. Now, in the closing stages of 2012, the pressure was becoming too much to bear. Old racist values were returning to the island nation, those thinking that it may help the situation to be extreme against people foreign to the country were simple finding that the refugees simply kept on coming, they didn't have many other places to go too in Europe now... the dubbed 'Free Zone' was becoming smaller every passing day.

Because of this overcrowding, those unfortunate enough to be stuck outside had little chance of having a nice break or lunch. Or avoiding the seagulls which, like predators, swooped into the yard to almost viciously steal food from those unlucky pupils.

Inside though, there was still enough spare fuel to deliver the cold sandwiches and tuna cups, and enough electricity to cook the hot meals and heat the classrooms and the single library adjacent to the bustling and loud dining hall. The teachers had given up trying to quieten the noise that the lucky ones made, and the mess they left behind in the rush to grab a seat in the classroom their next lesson would be taught in.

Claire Herausforderer had no care about the lessons, or the food, or the unlucky ones. She was seating in the library and, despite the noise of chattering, keyboard smashing and mouse clicking, was trying to take a quick nap before her ICT lesson, which was quite pointless as only half of the computers worked due to wear and breakdowns, which could not be solved due to the lack of funds.

Clare's life was a tough one. She was one of the outcast in the schools social system which modern times had helped warp into something horrid, disgusting. While no-one knew of her incredible, yet violent and horrible past other than a trusted friend in the form a teacher, Mr. Harrison, they assumed that the eye patch, slim physique and weird under clothes were down to her German background and general 'weirdness'.

She was always a neutral figure... no-one liked that.

She acted cool, but open to her closest friend, strong in speech and at times, her mask would slip just a enough to be seen by on lookers.

She always thought that things could be worse... not a good attitude to have in a world full of war and struggle.

Her slightly spiked blood red hair, and generic green eyes was odd to say the least, and being half-German, history lessons were always tiresome and aggravating. They thought she could not hear their whispers about her country, its past and how it somehow linked to her. Her height of 157cm, which was a good average for her age, at least protected her from an assault on that front, but did little to deter the pupils below her year to push their luck.

But what made her stand out the most from the crowd was her distinctive grey, red and white stripped right eye-patch. It was _the _that got her the bulk of the unwanted attention she so sorely wanted to go away. It was not that she was affected by the hassle in the sad way, but just the annoyance of it that got to her. After a while she got tired of it, it was so tiresome and unnecessary, but bearable enough to get through. Some thought it was just cheap imitation or a bid to grab that attention that she hated.

"_Oh, if only they knew..._"

A never ending chorus of hers constantly repeating in her brain whenever her better than average hearing would pick up the whispers behind her. It was always behind her... maybe they feared her? Maybe they thought at the back of their small, ignorant minds that there was something more to it...

And they would be right, but it was more fun to keep them in the dark despite its drawbacks.

But Claire, rather than elevating their fears, would still not tell anyone of her right eye, or her troubled yet valiant history. It was not her thing, and she did not need the pampering, she is happy as she is right now. And nothing and no one could change that. She believed that a person should be judged as they were in the present, that the past should have no effect. The uniqueness of the person should only be a factor. How the person acted to others, whether kindly or rudely, should be the reason for being their friend or foe... lover or rival. So because of that she was content with the never ending hate she received, and the fact that humanity would be dead before that hate disappeared.

"Oi! Are you ever gonna take that eye patch off?!"

"_Oh great_" The sudden arrival of trouble caught her off guard. If her eyes were not already wide open from the 'recurring dream' then they would be now. Claire was not usually the one to show how emotions, so even looking startled would prolong the verbal bites that were always directed at her.

"_People always need a scapegoat, someone to mock to try and bring some comfort to their lives. Remember this so you don't get hurt by it" _Claire never forgot those words. A nice little life lesson for her to pass around when she could.

"Hey! Don't ignore me! I'm talking to you mono!"

"_Amazing how one word can describe me, I'll give 'em credit for that"_ Don't get her wrong, she would praise her tormentors... just in her mind of course.

"Do you have to shout?" Claire gave a hint of aggravation in her voice. Though unintended, it was an unfortunate by-product of waking up...

"Oh have I done the impossible and pissed you off?" Katies grin looked as if it was going to fly off her face, to piss of Claire was an achievement worthy of only a few and now Katie could proudly display it.

She mentally sighed. _"This is gonna take awhile..."_

* * *

The city of Nottingham, despite the war and the hardships that many faced, was bustling with life and commerce. Even before the war, the city was known for it's multiculturalism, and with that the racial tensions that would exist in such an environment. With the need to point the finger of blame increasing, the city began to develop a split between the majority and minority groups. The irony of it being that the majority white shops, gangs and groups were to the east, and minorities to the west.

Many were thankful though that the tension and hate had not yet boiled down to senseless fighting. In fact, the years before the war helped cement the minority groups presence, with everybody still united in saying that they were from the city, and proud to be living within it.

The town was not renowned for its Witches. To go deeper, no witches had ever been born in the area, or if so, any that had any importance in the history of Nottingham and the residents lives. This made a perfect spot for Claire to reside to get away from those who might want to find her.

She was too proud to admit that she was really hiding from them...

When Claire decided to escape ,as she puts it, from the 501st she had asked for one favour from her new commandant:

"_Please... I know you don't want any of this to happen, but make sure that no-one can find my background. That no-one has the ability to find out who I really am... please._

_If not for me... then for her, Minna."_

_Minna-Dietlinde Wilcke tearful eyes widened as she heard the young Claire address her with her name and not her rank. There was always a sense of seriousness when Claire addressed by name and not rank. It was something Claire had always done for as long as Minna knew the young German-British hybrid. It was always Colonel, Major, Captain... never a first name. It was even rarer then being called by her surname. At least that actual happened from time to time._

_The events of the past few days... Calais... Dunkirk especially, clouded her stubbornness and command. She wanted, dare say she needed Claire to stay. Something to keep the spirit of Yui alive. But something in the back of her mind told her to not try, to not pressure and persist._

_Just let her go was all that was going through her head._

_And so she did._

_Claire received both of her wishes, and by the morning she was gone. Gone before any of the remaining wing could say bye. Not goodbye though... Minna was sure that one day Claire would come back._

_Even by force if the situation demanded._

_Minna would never get the chance to know where Claire ended up. But the higher ups within the government and military would always have some idea, maybe even the full hypothesis. But Minna would not dare go as far as to asking them directly for that information. She would chose to wait for them to come to her and her wing, the only people capable of bringing her back..._

The city continued to bustle and breath with life, a hive of Humans as opposed to a hive of Neuroi. The inner workings of the transport systems and banking transactions were clearly visible and upon the ground and inside the data layers of databases. While nothing can be scanned or noted with the floating hives, pushing aside the clouds. The only signals to be picked up were those of the Neuroi leaving their unique and fascinating bases in the sky.

The mood of the city was starting to shift into intrigue and amazement. Something was afoot in the city, and the Chinese whispers spread from street to street, shop to shop. A sense of unease swept through the city as people questioned why people would spread such weird rumours.

The weird rumour became truth for more and more people as a rogue witch strutted through the town, occasionally stopping to ask a passer-by about the location of a secondary school close to the city...

* * *

The digital end of lunch bell beeped, accompanied with the echoes of moaning at lunches end. Some failed to get a chance to 'eat' their soup, some could not even get in at all. But mostly the groaning was because of the fact that it was time to go to a lesson in a cramped classroom. The students no longer really cared about their subjects, the war made them lose motivation in life. Some students, the moment they turned sixteen, enlisted into the military to serve and fight, knowing that they were likely to die within the first few weeks after _very _basic training.

For Claire it was a God-send, an excuse to get away from her tormentors who just could not stop hounding her with their questions and attempts to sneak an unneeded grope or two on her relatively flat chest.

As she walked to her History class she could not help but notice the daily staring and glaring from her fellow students. Claire always gave off a cold to touch mentality to those around her, it was if they could feel the coldness that emitted from her. Because of this she was sometimes also refereed to as a walking fridge. Just thinner and seemingly human.

She could never tell what half of them were thinking though. It was odd and off-putting. Some glares were of pure xenophobic hatred, some of lust mostly from the male students if they did not hate her, or at least wanted to see what she was like in bed. Those were just her interpretation though, but she was usually right.

In her mind at least.

The corridors stank of perfume and cologne as boys and girls attempted to cover over their unwashed bodies. With water being rationed, it was difficult to get a shower or two every week, if they were lucky enough.

Thanks to her military past, she had enough money to buy through the rationing and get a decent wash every day or two. Maybe the students could tell her cleanliness? She was not one for perfume, and she naturally always smelt... fine. A hint of body wash, but that was it.

Jealousy is a horrible emotion.

As she entered the History classroom or sheep pen, which ever worked, she noticed the change in atmosphere... but it was not the usual change that would happen whenever she walked into a room full to the brim with people. No, it was something else. Regardless, she scanned the room for a seat, and to her surprise even the seat quarantined to her and her only was taken.

Something was definitely off, but Claire ignored it for now and walked to the back of the class to sit on a free desk. Now that someone was on it, especially her, it would stay exactly where it was now. It was never wise to ask a student to stand up and expect them to stay in such a position for the entire lesson. It was suicide.

As the new lesson on WWII reached it's twentieth minute, the class began to fidget and that unease and intrigue aura returned to the class. As the skilled lecturer, who had given up on teaching with books and simply explained things noticed to the change in atmosphere, he finished up he point, and sat down by his desk, not keen on trying to get across something that would not be heard.

Claire finished up her note writing and placed the half dozen amount of tiny papers into her small but efficient school bag. She decided to try and listen out for any clues on what was causing this very weird aura.

Over the years after she left the wing she had learned to harness a very small strand of power from her familiar without activating it, or giving of the magical signature that would be emitted with its use. She strengthened her hearing, and to be sure her sight, to try and pick out the topic of unease.

She concentrated her mind on a group of boys at the front at the classroom. One of them was blonde, sightly chubby. Another was also blonde but very thin, a sharp contrast when they were sitting right next to each other. The third and fourth had a brown shading of hair, with the third Asian and the shortest of the four on the row, and the other with a devious face about him. They were talking about witches, as they usually do. Fantasizing of them and dream of meeting one and do certain things with with the unlucky witch.

Their tone of amazement in their voices was a clue in a way. Did the Dachsund* break another record? Maybe the sister-lover** surpassed her.

Ha, no way...

After her musings she went back to her intensive listening of the boys and managed to pick up as she did so the city she was currently residing in...

What about Nottingham? "_Hmm... Nottingham, Nottingham... what's so important about Nottingham and Witches?"_

Then it hit her like a Frisbee into a dazed Gray Wolf^ that _that _was the point. There was no importance or connection between the two. She quickly concluded that their conversation, and the students unease and wonder was down to a witch or witches in Nottingham. This would mean two things:

Either they had found who she really was, or... there was at least one witch in town...

"_Or city to be precise" _Claire clarified with herself on conclusion two.

To test her first point, she came up with the hypothesis that if no-one reacted to her randomly stretching, it was not conclusion one, but in fact, very worrying the second idea.

Claire slowly stood up from her sitting position of the desk, and began to stretch her arms upwards, pulling a 'stretching face' that somehow remained monotone. Her fragile looking frame became noticeably... noticed, and yet she received not a shred of attention. Funny, the only time she wanted attention at school and she did not get it.

The feeling of irony were soon washed over with a feeling of dread. A witch was here. Hell, maybe more than just one witch, maybe the entire 501st. She frowned a meaningful frown as the possibilities and outcomes rushed through her head.

"_Could the war really be getting that bad that they are enlisting retired witches?_

_No... that can't be the case yet, no-one from the wing knows where I am. Argh, still the higher ups do. Would they send a witch to get me? They are either highly confident or bloody stupid, I've not lost so much combat experience that I've gone negative on it..._

_Ah jeez, played too much Total War^^ recently..."_

The end of lesson 'bell' startled her out of her trance.

* * *

The rogue witch pieced together the answers that she received from the civilians on the street and had arrived close to the location of a secondary school looking over the city. The school matched the descriptions she was given; A mostly green with yellow and black in between school emblem slapped onto flags and the school entrance. The colours and description of the building was correct, a rectangle like complex, split into squares...

"_Do they think of fires or..?"_

The witch activated her prototype Striker Unit jets and flew quickly into the air. The design was unique as it did not envelop the entirety of her legs. Instead, the units were only attached to the bottom half of her legs. The propulsion unit of the compact Striker was able to flick from the covering her feet to work, and flicking back behind her leg when when simply wanted to walk. Mini strafing jets were installed within the unit, but the prototype was so complex, confusing and cash-draining that this was the only one in existence.

The whole mechanics of moving metal with all the components inside to make it work all compact and re-done to be in such a state... it was too much. Even the witch did not know its capabilities or how it functioned.

The rogue witch took out her binoculars to stare down into the school. Her Owl familiar helped amplify the power of these special binoculars, allowing her to see into building past the walls and concrete which obscured the students and teachers alike.

The white-blond haired witch loved the tech she managed to get a hold of. As she retracted the ocular device downwards to look with her own brown eyes on the building, she was at a loss to why she could not detect any magical signature. She _knew _the hybrid was in there somewhere, and must have been concealing her magic as well as herself.

"Seems I'll have to go in there myself... tsk" Talking to herself, she descended onto the front of the entrance to the secondary area of the school complex, knowing full well that he presence would not be very welcome, and she would have to do some arm bending to get to what she wanted to get at.

Figuratively, and literally...

* * *

"_I'm not panicking, I am NOT panicking..." _Claire led herself to believe as she continued to sense the presence of a witch not very far from the building.

"_Scratch that, she's inside. Jesus what the hell! Who is she?!" _Trying to cover the panic with questioning and annoyance, she managed to keep most of her mask on in the class to not give off any weird vibes.

Sounds of questioning and raised voices could be heard outside and Claire knew that at this point things would get public and very awkward. Students from her class and around the southern half of the secondary complex began to look out of the windows to try and get a look at the growing feud. If that failed, then to at least listen.

Claire was paralysed, thinking too hard on what she could do next. The students who decided to check on her were unsurprised, thinking that this was just Claire being Claire; Impassive and uncaring of the what was happening below.

It was quite the opposite.

"You _are _hiding a witch here, and you _will_ tell me where she is!" Claire could not recognize the voice at all. This witch was unknown to her, which did not help her panicking mind.

"We won't tell you anything we don't know! These is _no_ witch here! And I advise you leave the premises at once!" One of the higher staff was 'talking' to her, his booming voices echoing through the empty courtyard. Now everyone knew something was up. The Science class began to empty as students ignored the demands of their teacher, running quickly and disorderedly into and through the corridor.

"I demand you tell me the truth at once!" The witches temper was growing.

"I'm sure your commanding officer would not be happy to hear of this! So if I were you I would leave now before things get worse for you!" A good counter to say the least, if the witch actually cared.

"Ha! Like I care about what my old squad would think! A short but simple retort which decided Claires' next course of action.

"She's a rogue, and she'll do anything to get to me it seems..."

"Excuse me?" Two stunned faces look directly at each other. Claire had spoken her mind out loud.

"Yeah, I don't think there's much point hiding now." She finished with a sigh, looking downwards at the desk which she used to help stand her up. The nerves and adrenaline were coursing through, like blood in veins, every breath came out a shudder barely noticeable by her Science teacher.

"So your-"

"Yes" She knew the question, and answered quickly, needing to intervene with the feud quickly before it turned into something worse. She was not keen on being questioned by police and military police alike because a rogue witch went mad trying to find Claire.

The teacher could only look on in a mixture of shock and amazement as Claire left the lab. Her calm walk masking the feelings inside her, the anticipation of battle, the end of her cover... the threat of being found again was high. This could lead to much more...

"So fucking troublesome!"

She continued her long walk, thinking she was on the Green Mile... she could feel her emotions building up; anger, fear, excitement to name a few. She would dare say she missed the feeling, but feared more that she might crave it again. She began to quickly devise a plan. She had to get the threat from the rogue away from the teachers and students, but she knew it would require her to activate her familiar to gain full access to her magic.

The crowd was thick with silence. The aura of wonder and fear mingled as the students struggled to react clearly to what was happening before them.

Claire ignored the glares, clutching her petite bag knowing she may need it in a few minutes, pushed through the crowd on the stairs, careful not to draw attention from the rogue who now had her head of year, a friend of hers, pushed against the thick concrete beam outside the canteen.

"If you don't spill the information I want, I may feel inclined to spill some your blood instead." The rogue said in a low, menacing voice. She meant what she said, and the situation had reached breaking point...

"_I have to act NOW!"_

* * *

**Oh noes cliffhanger! The next chapter's gonna be a bit difficult for me to write, and with college starting soon and other stuff continuing, I'll try and squeeze a page in when I ever I can, and then get the chapter uploaded... **

***Claires' crude reference to Erica**

****And another crude reference on Gertrude**

**^Claires' lasting impression on Minna was that of a dazed wolf, referring to Minnas familiar. **

**^^Some of you guys know the Total War series right? Rome II is FULL of bugs :'(**

**Thanks for reading! A review or two would be welcomed! But I hope you enjoyed the chapter at least! :)**


	3. Ability

_Hey. I considered starting a side story for Herausforderer not long after publishing Chapter 1, but I thought it best to continue on the main story for a few more chapters, as well as getting this first difficult to write hurdle out of the way._

_I'll try my best, I hope you enjoy this, and yeah. Just another disclaimer to say I don't own Strike Witches, yadda yadda._

* * *

"You remember Claire right?"

"What? Captain Herausforderer? The one from that time?"

"Yes, her."

"What about her?"

The command office of the 501sts' English Channel island base was occupied with the top two in the squad. Commander Minna was currently talking to her second in command and dear friend Major Mio Sakamoto of Japan. The topic of the previous member of the unit was always a touchy one, taboo almost. It was if talking about her was some sort of sin, but it was awkward and saddening, more so for Minna than Mio. The Major had joined the squad after the events of Dunkirk, during the "Great Shake-up" where numerous military groups were reformed and reorganised into stronger units in a blunt attempt to reduce the death count being suffered by the allied forces.

Mio Sakamoto's background and abilities were valuable and key for the main Witch unit during the Second Battle of Britain, and were of great use during the destruction of the International Space Station, averting its conversion to a potential Neuroi information super-weapon.

Her close association with the development of the modern day, more efficient yet powerful Jet Strikers, created by Doctor Ichiro Miyafuji and his science team. Before the war began, he was presumed dead after an explosion in the Strike Prototype Complex which incinerated and damaged vast numbers of developments, research, blueprints and so on. The magical energy emitted from the event could be felt by every Witch around the world, and left a scar on the landscape of the Peak District, where the complex was built firstly in secret during the 1st World War.

So hazard a guess that the event drew the attention of the Neuroi, or that it convinced them to focus more on the planet. The Pacific Sea Incident was a foreshadow to the war that was coming, but even before that, sightings of the Neuroi had increased dramatically since the explosion, and had become more hostile and intent on disruption and downright destruction.

Her closeness with Dr. Miyafuji was what convinced her to bring his daughter, Yoshika Miyafuji, under her wing to train. She knew of the youngsters potential, and wanted to create for herself a legacy and future leadership for the squad under the guise of the young girl.

"Do you know of her magical ability?" Minna answered Mio's question with another question, wondering if she knew much about the Captain.

"Well it's definitely unique? You never really told me what it was exactly..." That was true, and her curiosity was begging her to be more direct so that she could receive a proper answer. Whenever Minna talked, Mio would listen. But she was always keen to learn more from her.

"Energy Manipulation"

"Huh? Really? That's... mad... impossible even. What?"

It was a rare ability which allowed a Witch of such ability to fully use her magic. In a sense, the user could create and manage physical, unprocessed magical energy, and use it for her own purpose and for what she willed. Consider magical energy as a stem cell. Depending on the genes, bloodline, ability and mentality of the Witch, they will develop an ability. The ability to heal, for example, uses this unprocessed magical energy, and converts it into healing energy and substance. This though would make the processed energy impure and less powerful by 30-40%. Less or more so depending on the Witch, obviously.

The ability to manipulate this pure magical energy though made such Witches the most powerful and skilled, able to create a physical form of the pure energy into strength, speed, and attacking moves. A blob of pure physical magical energy blasted into the gut would not be a very pleasant experience to say the least.

The flaw though of this ability was the inability to process this energy into something exact, such as healing energy, electric energy, and so forth. The user would need a push from either a specific, power inducing object or from another Witch. The user of the ability would also have difficulty accepting the processed energy of healing into the body, making easy to fix injuries a little more tedious and time consuming, as well as energy consuming for the healer.

"_How can such a girl have that power?" _Mio knew the something was off with the girl when she first 'met' her. But, that ability? The rareness of it was something to be cherished when found. And on that subject:

"Why did you let her go then?! Are you mad?! We need a power like that to be used in this war! Wasting it because her teacher died in battle-"

"How _dare_ you!" It was an uncharacteristic interruption from Minna. The events of that day ran deep within her. It was the day she was promoted to Commander of the 501st; "We were _all_ distraught after that battle! And she was only a **child!**"

A long pause reigned within the office. Mio never imagined the reaction she would get from Minna for her outburst.

Mio's shocked state persisted as she quickly apologised and left the office, still comprehending the conversation, missing out on what Minna was going to say next...

* * *

Time seemed to slow to a snails pace, freezing as students, teachers and witches comprehended the actions which had just taken place.

The blur of a shining blue female caught the eyes of all but the Rogue who had no time to react to fist directed straight at the left side of her jaw. What caught the Rogue by surprise the most was that the attacker came from her right, and had enough speed and surprise to dash from one end of the courtyard to the other, striking with what she presumed was her writing hand...

_(Seconds earlier...)_

"_I have to act NOW!" Claire concluded, rapidly channelling magical energy, and concentrating in activating her familiar to allow herself to output the magic. The years of not calling on the domestic cat to aid her fights had it's affects, as her power was building up in delayed bursts, or slow increments._

_As she began to sprint to her target, she could feel the energy within her coursing to her feet to exponentially increase her speed. The long missed feeling was one she could only enjoy for a very short amount of time as she flickered closer to her target. The Rogue had just begun to notice her transparent like form rushing closer, glowing light blue as her body took its sweet time synchronizing and adapting to this long forgotten power inside her. It was an amazing rush for Claire, a craving was already developing from the potency of the magic rippling inside her veins and nerves._

_Despite her slowly rising magic limit, she was able to employ her old skirmish technique of what she called "Body Flickering". She increased her acceleration to such an extent, that she could jump forward ahead of her position by a few centimetres to a metre or two. This allowed her to reach the other side of the Rogue, and as the effects of her technique dissipated, she focused the remaining potential energy into her right arm, throwing it straight at the face of the Rogue, launching her many metres away from the teacher she had threatened..._

_(Present)_

Though Claire was panting with exhaustion from overusing what she was recovering, she had disorientated the Rogue enough to allow her body to keep tapping into the powers she had not used for quite a few years. Her body was still pulsating light blue, her familiars ears and tail had yet to materialize, but an outline was clearly present, growing thicker with a darker blue, transitioning to the natural colour of black.

The slow power up was frustrating to Claire but she knew that she was the one to blame for that, as she hoped she would not need to ever use her powers again. Still, the feeling of its return was welcome and nostalgic, and brought a sense of normality back to her life.

"_Sounds a bit ironic considering how rare witches are..."_

Claires attention was once again drawn to the Rogue who was tentatively picking herself up. The unexpected blast of pain and the sheer shock of the attack by Claire fuzzed up the Rogues thoughts and processes, as he mind and body re-synced,

"Tch" Was all the Rogue could say at first, angry as she was embarrassed by failing to notice her target sooner and the threat she imposed on her.

"Unless another Witch has appeared out of no where, I presume you're the infamous Captain Claire Herausforderer, correct?"

"Yes I am. Why are you here?" Claire was intent on knowing why this Rogue was here and, perhaps more importantly, how she knew where she was. She knew information on her would be stored somewhere. But how could this Witch get a hold of such knowledge?

"Heh, I'm here to fight you of course. My name-"

"I don't care what your name is." The ex-captain interrupted with strong authority and tone. "I'm more interested in how the hell you managed to find out where I was?" She was debating with herself on whether this Witch was really a Rogue, or more sinisterly a Witch hired or released or assigned to try and 'take care of her', or at least test her abilities.

"That _really_ doesn't matter Claire."

"Don't call me by first name when I don't even know you." "_Or care about your existence, to be honest." _She could already tell that this could get tedious. So, she was eager to get this over and done with quickly.

"Not even gonna say please?" A smirk grew on the Rogues face.

"..." It was quite an invitation to receive a fist through the stomach. Knowing this, she kept still, preferring to allow her magic to build up and fully activate before attack on a whim.

"You know, I've always heard rumours about what's behind that eye-patch of yours? Your quite famous within the inner circles, but they never told me anything..." The Rogues face momentarily grew serious but was soon replaced by that same cockiness she showed moments earlier.

"I guess I'll have to find out for myself, eh?"

The Rogue was once again caught off guard, her stance broke as Claire let out a low giggle at the boldness of the Rogues comment; "Hehe, I'm sorry, but you won't even push me hard enough to force me to use all of my base power, never mind what I have in reserve." It was Claires turn to get cocky, a sly grin appeared on her lips to mock the Rogue more.

Said Rogue began to become livid as she re-activated her familiar of the Long-tailed Weasel, thus reactivating the clamped on mini-Strikers. _"I thought she sounded Canadian." _Claire thought, watching the small ears and the long tail appear down the Rogues back. Claires familiar was still not fully activated, but it was becoming less transparent and less blue as her body reached the final stages of reactivating her powers.

"Oh really?! You don't even have a Striker Unit on you! I must just go cheap and shoot you straight in ya thick 'ead!" _"Definitely Canadian and angry to say the least" _To say that she was more interested in the Rogues background said everything, really.

"Oi?! Are you even listening to me?!"

"I don't need my Striker Unit to fight you." The Rogues face was looking as if it would explode, her anger was incomprehensible, curling up her first and breathing heavily. She gave of a growl as she began to power herself up.

"I was tempted to just beat you to a pulp, but I think I'll just rip your head off instead!"

The Rogue nearly screamed as she began to charge at Claire, forgetting her earlier threat of drawing a gun, the anger had completely over whelmed her and she was intent on dealing pain with her fists instead of a bullet from a simple pistol.

Claire, who was still adjacent to the pillar that the Rogue had pinned a teacher to, stepped back, pushing the teacher away and then placed herself behind the pillar in an attempt to test the strength of the attacking Witch. Said Witch complied will what Claire wanted to know, slamming her first into the thick, concrete pillar. Fragments of the object flew out in a 180 degrees towards the one who damaged it, sending flicks of dust into the eyes of the Rogue. The pillar continued to crack, but was in no danger of braking completely, despite a fist being nearly half way through it.

The blood haired girl reappeared from behind the abused pillar, running past the Rogue who was currently trying, with some difficulty, to free herself from it. The courtyard was large enough to facilitate the fight that would soon escalate, and the further away Claire could get the fighting from the students, the better. But the fight had already ended damaging the building to a small extent.

"_Still, could be worse."_

And it was, for her at least. The Rogue had managed to free herself from the pillars grasp, activating the jets of her mini-Striker Unit. By keeping the jets pointing sidewards instead of dropping them down to cover her feet, she activated the mechanics which would move the jets to face forward, thus pushing her back and out of the concrete encasing. Dictating the actions of the Unit, she spun her body round to face Claire in a fashion that was slow enough to allow the rotating jets to continue pushing her straight to her target, but fast enough to be facing her when she arrived at what she would call a punching bag.

The blow to Claires chest wheezed out air that she had briefly breather in, barely having any time to actually reach her lungs. The force of the punch she received pushed her back, but she maintained a balance state, drifting across the ground after catching a bit of air for a few milliseconds. The Rogue, after dealing her blow, jumped back, allowing the jets of her Unit to move downwards to cover her feet. At the same time, her brown eyes guided her hands to her Berreta 92, intending to draw and use it against her prey.

Claire noticed and acknowledged the Rogues intent and immediately dashed towards the suspected Canadian. She underestimated the speed of ascent of the blond haired enemy, thinking wrongly about the specifications of an ordinary Jet-Striker and not taking into account that the Rouges was a tiny prototype.

Finishing her sprint to arrive as close to the aggressor as witchery possible, she focused the energy in her legs into strength to jump high enough to catch the Rogue.

With all of her might and conviction, she hurtled herself upwards. As the Rogue surpassed the height of the schools first floor, it was looking as if Claire would not be able to grab hold of her hunter. But she could grab hold of her Strikers! Bringing her arms downwards, her right hand reached the right side Unit at the entrance, positioning herself in between the two jets. The raging afterburner of the left jet ignited her green jumper in a near instant, and Claire struggled to pull of the Unit she had a hold off. Her desperation and determination mingled with her adrenaline and coursing magic, and ended up being the final push in bringing forth her familiar, gathering the newly found strength she ripped the right propulsion unit off its user, and began hurling to the ground from the equivalent height of 5 floors.

"What?!" The Rogue exclaimed in amazement as she began to lose her balance in the air, beginning to focus on setting down on the ground again. _"Tsk, I might lose that piece of the puzzle, but she's gonna break her 'ead in!" _The blonde concluded in her mind. As Claire was Striker-less, she could not slow down her decent, and was bound to crash bloodily into the solid floor below, with a bit of charring to add to the finish.

* * *

Mio was now heading toward the library which resided in a relatively untouched part of the military base, her thoughts always casting back on Minna and the anger she rarely saw. She knew the subject of Dunkirk and the Captain was in a way taboo and awkward to speak of, but she had never seen Minna react in the way she did before. It made her feel guilty, but it did not stop her annoyances that someone so powerful could be allowed to simply walk out.

The library, she hoped, would contain some sort of information on the ex-captain, with documents on all ex-members of the 501st being stored in there somewhere, most likely in the corner of the room where the lighting is the darkest, or something silly like that.

Laughing a short, low laugh (not like her at all), she turned the corner where a young Miyafuji ran straight into her, nearly toppling her over, with her hands somehow ending up on the Majors breasts.

"**Miyafuji!**" Sakamoto boomed at the 14 year old Mameshiba Witch, who quickly jumped a few metres back away from her fuming sensei.

"S-sorry! Sorry! A-ahh don't kill me p-please?" A stuttering and nervous Yoshika was hoping it wouldn't be training as punish...

"Kill you? Hahahaha! No~ of course not!" The young girl sighed a sigh of relief that her head would not be decapitated by her teachers sword.

"No! We're going to do some good old fashioned training to increase your awareness skills!"

And suddenly, Yoshikas day got a tad bit worse and she groaned out load by mistake.

"Are you disappointed, _Sergeant Miyafuji?"_ The menacing glare from the experienced Japanese Witch was enough to scare even the most battle hardened man or women into submission.

"N-no!"

"No what!?"

"NO MAJOR SAKAMOTO, MA'AM! I WILL TRAIN TO YOUR HEARTS CONTENT!" Shouted a scared to death Yoshika, fearing what the Major would do if she dared step out of line.

"That's the spirit! Hahahaha!"

"_I guess I can find out where her records are tonight instead..."_

* * *

A loud silence echoed through the courtyard and around it's edges. The brisk winter wind was light but still cutting, as the cloudy yet light sky released small snowflakes, to slowly fall onto the grass and concrete that the ground consisted of. Though not thick or abundant enough to settle, the fallen flakes lasted on the cold ground, while melting on the faces of living beings.

A hum of magical energy hung in the air, interrupted by the sound of a single jet sporadically firing up to maintain the Rogues balance. Not from trying to land, but from the sight she was seeing before her eyes.

Claires eyes opened slowly, surprised that what she saw very immediate to her was the concrete slabs that made up the ground on the courtyard. Her small nose was millimetres from touching the stone cold floor, and she realised she was floating. Well, not precisely. She was in fact... hovering, flying you could say, something that she found out she could do a year or two ago. Yet, it was still weird, odd. It was something she never thought could be done without the use of a Striker Unit or simple broom.

She cast a glance to her left to find the broken remains of the propulsion unit she, only a few seconds ago, had ripped off the feet of the Rogue. The compact and complex wiring and machinery inside was open to see to the world, and the distinctive blue of magic which acted like a secondary electrical current, was flicking and spitting around and out of the unit, finally able to escape, free of its captive, It was as if magic where an animal, which could be true considering that every Witch had a familiar to call upon.

Claire broke the trance of floating by placing her hands and feet firmly onto the ground, springing her knees forward, and proceeding to stand up, brushing the dust and char on herself, mainly on what was left of her her decent, the hybrid managed to rip off her blackening green school jumper, by flowing magical energy into her arms to increase her strength. The tiny flecks of fire that landed on the other parts of her body, shirt, trousers, were quickly extinguished by the air flow around her, keeping any burning to a minimum.

Her shirt though was damaged the most. A burnt out hole in the back, thinning as it went further down, was showing her underclothing protection. It appeared to be fire prove, and was using the same colours as her eye patch. But the heat still penetrated the special suit, making her back sting due to the aggravation her skin had suffered. Like a sun burn after forgetting to put on enough sun cream on the beach.

Not that she every went to the beach or anything. It was just barbed wire and mines to be fair.

"How is that possible?!" Exclaimed the Rogue who was now settling back down onto the courtyard to the left of Claire, who was currently facing the canteen and the on lookers, inwardly grinning at the shocked faces and open mouths.

"Beats me..." Claire didn't really understand how she could fly without a Striker. It didn't seem possible, and she always thought that there must be a catch to it somewhere. But whenever she tried to think about, to find an answer, it always made her head hurt and deterred her from the thoughts, however close she got she could not make heads or cat-tails of it...

Speaking of cats, her sensitive ears picked up the Rogues hands movements, her right hand moving towards her Beretta and the left moving to ready he right hand with support.

The speed of movement was hard to read for any on looker, as Claire once again dashed towards her enemy. Being too close to the Rogue to flicker to her target, she simply amplified her sprinting , ready to dodge any bullets that may come her way, hoping that no one was behind her, not wishing for anyone to come under harm from the actions of a mad women.

The Rogue had pulled out and readied her aim quickly, before Claire could reach her. As she pulled the trigger, Claire anticipated the shot, whooshing firstly to the left to miss the first bullet, skipping next to right making sure she kept momentum and remained steady. And finally, with the third shot, she took an extra set forward to allow herself to side jump in front of the Rogue. The bullet barely missed her as she drew her spread out left arm down onto the right hand of the Rogue with such strength that it broke the lethal weapon, and paining the Canadian.

The Rogue retaliated instantly throwing her left fist into the jaw of Claire with good strength, pushing her head back with her body, despite the resistance Claire was giving, following the inertia.

"_Bitch is left handed?!_" Her mind screamed as she positioned her feet sideways to slow reversing down, after a few stumbles. Her right hand, graced with a cut from the action of breaking a dangerous weapon, was raised along with her left hand as she braced for another offensive manoeuvre. The Rogues strike came in the form of a swift karate kick. While strong and intentional cutting to open up Claires chest for a slashing strike, it failed, and the Rogue found her leg trapped as Claire snaked her left arm around the limb. She then proceeded to give an unrestrained punch fiendishly into the nose of the Rogue.

The Rogue felt the intense sting and hum of pain rush through the area which was abused, and then felt as if her body was splitting as Claire refused to let go her leg, over stretching her sockets and muscles. She screamed a bloody scream which cut through the courtyard, school and beyond. The intense pains that she felt nearly overwhelmed her, and when she thought it was over, she was chucked even further away from the pillar which she struck first, landing in the opposite end of the courtyard.

Her Weasel familiar briefly disappeared and re-awakened due to her nerves and brain being overloaded from her current situation. As she lay on the floor, eyes clamped shut from the pain, and struggling to gather strength to pick herself up, she felt tickled by the feeling of blood slipping out of her nose. Though annoying, she considered it a blessing that it was irritation and not thudding agony. Thinking of that her left side, mainly her leg sockets and hip area, burned and released a terrifying sting, forcing her to the ground with a quiet thud accompanied with a pained and annoyed groan.

She wasn't angry, she was panic-stricken; "_Oh god, oh god, oh god how the fuck did I let that happen?! How can she just do that so easily?! How can I-"_

"Be that weak?"

The Rogue was once again stunned by hybrid, she had easily read or predicated her train of thought. Tears collected at the side of her eyes from the pain as well as the embarrassment.

"You're not weak to be fair, I just seem to be overpowered... heh." Claire managed to remain cocky but her tone of voice gave off her guiltiness. But she wanted to get across her point dearly. Claire never thought that any Witch was weak...

"All Witches are strong. So strong that they would risk their lives to protect people, especially the ones they love..." Her conviction ran out of her mouth, desperate to reach the mind of the Rogue.

"But I lost that last part, and I turned against my morals and the Witches by abandoning my squad and everyone we sought to protect..." She would dare argue that she was the weaker one by doing such a thing.

"Don't make that mistake, don't be like me. You have so much to fight for, and so much to give." She was finishing until the Rogue interrupted her:

"Don't act like you're some sort of prophet! Don't assume anything about me either! It was my-

"Choice? What I did was also my choice, but it didn't make me better damn it!"

Silence once again fell onto the open space of the complex, as the Witches let the events and words sink in and compute with their morals, ideas and emotions. The Rogue wanted badly to hurt Claire for the pain she inflicted on her, but knew that her actions lead up to her near debilitation. But her anger got the better of her and clouded over the logical that was within reach. She instead reached towards the anger to drive her to stand up, ignoring the pain and stings shooting through every fibre of her being, using it as fuel to motivate herself. Her rage was plastered on her face as she successfully stood up to face Claire.

"You act like an adult when you're not! You're just a kid who over-reacted to a battle, thinking that experiencing the event would make ya a wise-guy!" Claire stood there, her face becoming impassive, but inside it began to hurt and aggravate her, but she knew she had to keep calm and let her vent out the anger onto her.

Something she had ended up becoming used to.

"You... piss me off! I came here to fight you! Not hear bullshit! Your words do nothing in this world, you're living in a fantasy if you really think that your comments actually mean or change anything!" The lividness was clashing with her sincerity, she really meant what she said. The war had taken a toll on everyone, and that kind of opinion was justified considering the hopeless situation the world faced.

"It's time you learnt that lesson Herausforderer!"

As she finished the last syllable, she unleashed her special ability of creating vectors out of her magic, while draining, the speed and power of the attack was near limitless. By using vectors to attack someone, her attack would be nigh impossible to read and escape from, never mind counter. The sheer speed of the near invisible magic ability made it difficult to view, and the vectors could cut though and penetrate shields making blocking useless. The best way to combat the attack would be to dodge and wear out the Witch using the power.

Over-clocking her senses with her magic, Claire detected the first vector and promptly flickered to the side, using the momentum of the flicker to dash towards the Rogue for one final time. The second and third vector headed towards her chest and stomach in respective orders, while a fourth aimed to restrict her movements by gripping her leg. But Claire had an ace up her shirt sleeves.

During her talk with the Rogue, Claire decided to pool up her magical energy ready to create a shield if necessary. A shield created without the boost from a Striker Unit would be weaker and more prone to be broken or simply being a transparent blue circle of light symbols. Only Witches with the strongest and largest magic reserves could create a shield on par with that of a Striker, but one way for a weaker Witch to match that power would be to pool their energy into their hands, ready to activate it when desperately needed. However, if an already strong Witch were to do that, well...

It would be like punching a wall of graphene.

Ignoring the fourth vector heading towards one of her legs, she quickly pointed her arms forward, slamming her wrist together with her palms also facing forward, and emitted the built up energy into perfectly round shield, large enough to block the main two threats, but small enough to keep the shield as strong as possible from the speed and impact of the incoming vectors.

The the two vectors crashed into the shield, not having enough time to move out of its way. The shield groaned and bent at the dual attacks, but held strong enough to suffer the severe abuse it was under. But the fourth vector reached her left leg, grabbing it roughly and crushingly. The Rogue could hear Claires muscles and bones crushing, tearing and breaking from the sheer intensity of the vectors strong grip, and the shield began to vaulter as her enemies mind was overwhelmed from the pain.

The shield finally broke with a glass like shatter and the two vectors impaled the hybrid with a sickening sound and sight. At the same time, to insure the death of her foe, she flung the body to the right into the complex, letting the already impaled vectors slice through the captain. She would let the building finish her off.

At least... that was supposed to happen.

As the body and blood flew through the air, the body began to blur in an odd way. Not thanks to the speed of the throw, but seemingly of something else. It began to become see through, flickering in and out of existence as if...

It wasn't real.

The realization dawned as she felt a presence appear from behind her, and that static feel of a mass of energy was also there, ready to be thrown into her. "_...no way..."._

_(Minutes earlier)_

_As the Rogue lay metres ahead of her, obviously in searing pain from the attack she had just delivered onto her, she was determined to bring some sense into her to stop the fight and allow her to move on and back into something useful. Unsure on whether her plan would succeed, she set up a backup plan to neutralise the Rogue in case she attacked..._

_She used her magic to create a copy of her herself, an image... a mirage. She added extra magic to give the image physical form and most of her reserves to conduct the bulk of the fighting, which would be defensive for the mirage, and offensive for her real self. As the process finalized, she utilized her flicker technique once more, placing her self behind a pillar nearly directly behind the Rogue, leaving enough energy remaining within herself to deal a non-lethal finishing blow:_

"Kraft Kugel!_"_

The ball of pure magical energy held on the palm of her right hand was slammed into the back of the Rogue, completely stunning her and knocking her out, and she once again flew forward, landing exactly where the mirage of Claire had once stood.

The battle was over.

* * *

Mio Sakamoto entered the library after the 4 hour training session with her apprentice, still keen on finding out anything about Claire. She gave a slight wave to Lynne who was currently reading about British history, mainly about the first Battle of Britain which her grandparents took part in. Lynne courteously waved back with a calm, warm smile before looking back down at the contents of the book.

Mio saw her potential too, but left the job of encouraging her to Yoshika as the two become close friends almost immediately.

As she continued her search around the relatively large library, she came across a book which listed all the Witches known to have existed, including myths and legends of Witches of old who had (or had supposedly at least) saved the world or a country from a great threat in the past. The book had a section of all the Witches from the previous year, 2011.

The 2012 edition was yet to be published, but was bound to arrive any time soon.

As she tried to locate the section she needed within the catalogue of sorts, she nearly ended up dropping it as her eyes scanned the G section of surnames. There was another Witch currently alive who could manipulate energy, and was part of the 504th Joint Fighter Wing currently residing in the United States. Her name read...

Jane T. Godfrey.

* * *

_So, how was that? Hopefully this is the chapter that draws more people into reading, but I'll be glad if I've made those who already do enjoy it._

_I'm using this project of mine to vent out my anger and frustration and help me move on at the minute. I've had a very tough couple of months recently, from starting college to having my love interest pretty much destroy me emotionally xD_

_Either way, I'm quite determined to make this story, well... good. :D_

_Any way, stay tuned. I am trying to use a tuned for the story Strike Witches Season 1 storyline, and whenever I need to, I'll be adjusting powers and ages very slightly. So don't kill me if you find Sakamotos powers last a tad bit longer, or something else along those lines._

_And, just to end... Claires ability to fly ain't exactly of her own doing... hehe, spooooooilers~_


	4. Another

_Oh shizzle has it been over a month? Damn, sorry about that..._

_Any way. Hello! New chapter, Going to try and be regular in posting chapters. So a new chapter every week or two from now on, hopefully. Enjoy._

_Disclaimer: Don't own Strike Witches or anything related._

_Herausforderer | Courtyard Arc – Chapter 3: Another_

* * *

Jane awoke from her slumber for the last time in her home country of the United States. Her hair adorned a typical bed head, blond hair spiking and flaying in all directions. Today was the day that the 504th Joint Fighter Wing would beginning relocating to the Duchy of Venice, stationed there to protect the 'City of Water' and Italy as a whole. Venice, despite its waning power during the Middle Ages and beyond, had managed to stay independent despite attempts by Italian states and foreign powers to take control, and the ultimate unification of the country, all the way back in 1861.

Looking around, she took in the sight and feel of the room that she had resided in for nearly a year now. The wallpaper had already been taken down as an ordinary unit was taking over the base after the wings move, and all but her essentials had been packed and were loaded upon the two planes rented for the move. While the room was simple, it always felt homely. A cupboard, a desk, TV and base standard PC... a double size bed.

Jane looked to the side to find it empty, but still maintaining the form of her wing-mate, Dominica S. Gentile.

Before Jane was first enrolled into the squad, Dominica was known charging into the fray of battle without any backup, risking her life insanely to produce a shock and awe attack in an attempt to disrupt her enemies. This usually allowed the squad to then pick off the disorientated survivals one by one after being forced out of whatever formation they had been in, spread out like butter on bread.

When Jane was asked to be the wingman for Dominica a few weeks after joining, it daunted her thinking she was going to pretty much fly blind behind the mad American ace as they charged into the formations of metallic black and red swarms of vicious Neuroi. Seemingly dispensable for whatever cause they had, they employed new and more deadlier tactics and moves that left more and more Witches on the brink of death.

Even closer though for Dominica and Jane.

Dominica's impulsiveness left the two Witches out matched and out gunned, and in a very real danger of losing their lives in the flash of a distinctively red Neuroi beam. But whatever happened, Dominica would always be unrelenting in her attacks, her incredible stamina only matched by her sheer while to come out of a fight winning.

Well, it was the only thing that matched until that fight.

Despite so many close shaves, the two Witches always found a way out of the difficult and near death situations. They were perfect matches, always compensating another disadvantage and always somehow being at the right place, at the right time to save each other or to pull of a daring feat which would eliminate many Neuroi in one calculated and unrelenting move. The way they attacked and worked together in such harmony... a term was quickly thought of and it stuck pretty quickly.

The "One-two Punch".

After the close calls and fighting, the Flight Lieutenant requested that Jane would be her permanent wingman thanks to their extraordinary compatibility in the air, and soon on the ground when they talked, trained and ate together. The two bonded quickly despite being polar opposites. Jane... open, shy but bouncy and always kind to those around her, looking after whoever she could. And Dominica... closed, assertive and direct but lazy-like until battle, a girl of few words, even for those closest to her.

Soon, Dominica acquired from Jane the nickname of "Don", while in her head she began to refer to the blue eyed girl as her "wife" because of the partnership they had developed during their fights and training. Jane gradually settled into her role as a right hand women to Don, ignoring the thoughts and feeling at the back of her head that something more was there and reachable if she decided to be the direct one for once...

Over the weeks and months after being relieved of duty thanks to the wings' extraordinary efforts, the feelings between the two grew and began to become noticeable not just for the two Witches, but for the entire squad. The endless teasing from Martina on Jane's end was eclipsed by Dominica's shrugging and coolness whenever someone brought up the issue, or dared tried to tease her instead of a constantly red-faced Jane.

With the call to action heard and the prospect of more tough battles and fights ahead, the remaining weekends were spent in whatever fun ways were possible, while the week was jam packed with training to attune the Witches back into their roles. Whether it be using assault rifles or snipers, magic abilities, and even getting used to using their magic for long periods of time, the training was rigorous. The demand for the Witches to be ready for anything was evident, the war seemed to be heating up, despite Neuroi incursions remaining low... but oddly sporadic.

With three weeks to go before the move to Venice, the wing held their last 'party' of sorts. The remaining two weekends would be spent packing and fitting in optional but recommended training, with relaxing still the common and most taken option.

This last little party was more like a family night out or a friends get-together, with little competitions here and there to circulate some competitiveness around the crew. One of the competitions was a baking contest to see who could make the best cakes or biscuits. And Jane, being the good cook she is, took on the task with great confidence, a never ending smile adorning who face, etched with furrowed brows showing her determination and confidence!

Meanwhile, Dominica stereotypically sat at the bland brown armchair on the edge of the formation of seats and sofas, keeping herself to herself and soaking in the atmosphere, chewing her gum as per usual. Secretly though, her eyes wandered to Jane, watching intently on the fragile figure of her wing-mate. Her chewing slowed as she admired the girls looks... Her simple, short blonde hair which contrasted with her own black hair, with two strands on either side growing downwards to complement her Eagle familiars ears which pointed upright whenever it was awakened. Dominica compared their personalities too. Opposites... yet matching, always melded together. It felt right, and it felt nice too.

Don would try to not stare for too long, not keen on attracting unwanted attention from those who didn't want to compete, but it was difficult for her to look away from that beautiful sunshine in her life.

"Hehe, admiring the view eh?" Martina interrupted Dominica's newly found hobby, much to her dismay and annoyance. She wasn't annoyed because her view had been compromised, but that her isolation had been interrupted.

Ok, maybe she was annoyed at her view being blocked too, but that wasn't the point.

"Martina, leave Dominica alone. She's obviously busy with other matters." Junko semi-ordered the Flight Sergeant, a small grin flashing in her calming smile. Even the officer was in on the teasing act, but was far more sympathetic and at least less pesty then the young Italian that was still eclipsing her sight from her sunshine!

"Hn, listen to her Crespi..." Probably as reserved Dominica could be at the moment.

"What do you say?" Martina decided to push her luck, the grin still present and daring.

"Fuck off" And the restraint flew away.

"Flight Lieutenant Gentile!" The "Lady of Libau" was never keen on strong language being used, even during battle, preferring the Witches to release their stress and anger onto the Neuroi instead of into the units ears. And swearing in front of a bouncy, still impressionable 15 year old?

No way! "Please restrain yourself! We may be on leave but that's no excuse to let your manners slip!"

Dominicas' hearing blocked out most of the rant, her focus turning to a now curious Jane. She stopped her stirring in the mixing bowl and their eyes locked onto each others, a light blush appearing on Janes face as they did so. Don gave her a small but exclusive-to-Jane smirk, and couldn't help it when it grew larger as her Sunshines face grew redder and more embarrassed.

"Excuse me?!"

Dominicas' head snapped back to face the Japanese woman, her raised eyebrows making it obvious that she was not pleased about being ignored. But she sighed, knowing that ranting to Dominica was a pointless endeavour. Instead, she had a better idea...

"Dominica? Can you follow me outside? I just want to chat?"

Don gave her a weary look, annoyance etched on her face at the thought of having to get up out of a comfy chair, likely to be taken up by Martina straight after she stood up, and then having to walk outside into the cool ambient of night time.

"Don't worry, It won't take long, not going to argue with you or anything like that." Junko tried to convince Dominica who was still giving off an aura of disdain.

"Pleeeease?" Junko put on her pleading face in a final attempt to convince the near unapproachable Dominica. Jane, Patricia and Amaki looked over, giggling at the sight. But Junko's 'do you really want to continue?' face silenced them as quickly as the outburst of quiet laughter began.

"Hn" And with that, Dominica slowly stood up, eyeing a grinning Martina, daring her to do what she knew she was going to attempt, and walked past Junko towards the corridor where the nearest exit to the exterior of the building would be. Junko sighed a victorious sigh, and instead of being followed by Don, she was instead following her.

"_She's an impossible nut to crack... how do you do it Jane?"_

* * *

Jane finished the choir of getting washed and prepared for the day ahead. Toothbrush now packed, soaps and flannels packed and any other assortment of washing gear with it. The bed made for the final time before getting dressed. Putting on a new set of underwear, and a fresh shirt underneath her military jacket, she packed the final bits and bobs, with the stuff she would need during the flight in a smaller flight bag which she would have to carry round for a good portion of the day.

As she reached the door of her and Dons' bedroom, a home from home in a funny, loving way, she looked back at said room with nostalgia. She was going to miss this place, the whole base in fact. It was such an important place for her, considering everything that had happened while she was here, how she enjoyed relaxing by the swimming pool, watching TV with everyone and the laughter and tears that had been produced.

And that night two... maybe three weeks ago?

"_How could I forget?" _She blushed at the thought and the memory which she hold fondly and shyly.

* * *

The two Flight Lieutenants entered the cool American night, the stars more abundant now that oil and gas ware rationed to aid the war effort for the Europeans and the United States own powerful navy and air force. The sight was surreal. Beautiful, yet terrifying. A reminder of where _they _came from, and how many there could still be out there... planning...

Waiting.

Dominica leant upon the cool concrete wall of the complex adorning her passive, in a way non-caring face. She reached into her black jacket, pulling out a chewing gum pack. She swiftly pulled out of the paper covering a gum piece and popped it into her mouth, secretly revealing in the sweet strawberry flavour.

"What is it?"

"_Straight to the point as usual." _Junko sweat dropped and lost her composure for a split second before reforming, straightening up and smiling a warm, sister to sister like smile which seemed to present understanding. Raising Dominicas' curiosity, she waited for Junko to speak her mind or whatever she wanted to say to her. It seemed important, but she kept her blank face, continuing to chew her gum before beginning to blow a bubble with the gum in her mouth.

"You do realise Jane feels the same?"

And just like that, Dominicas' smooth, cool composure of impassiveness was destroyed; as her bubble gum popped and splatted across her lips and around, stumbling to add insult with her eyes wide open in a mix of shock and being caught out.

"Right?" Junko pressed for an answer confirming the obvious, eyebrows raised and the sides of her lips pointed upwards with a mix of sympathy and amusement.

Composing herself and gathering up the gum using her fingers and chucking it onto the ground to be replaced by a fresh piece, Dominica responded in a way any girl of her age would:

"What ya talkin' about?"

"Oh please! We can _all_ see what's going on between you two." Junko was amazed to find the faint sign of a blush across Dominicas' face, her eyebrows once again raising upwards.

"...nothings goin' on-"

"Oh dear" Dominica continued to be a tough shell to crack, encasing herself in denial.

"Are you asham-"

"No!"

Never mind.

"Uh.. I-I mean..." At this point, it was pointless to try and shrug off the conversation. But if Dominica was feeling dismayed, there was little need...

"Look... I want to help. But I really don't need to..." Dominicas' was once again curious, although she was about to hear what Junko has stated before.

"Jane feels the same. It's obvious, and to be honest... you two are a perfect match!" Junkos' eyes sparkled with admiration and joy at the thought of Don and Jane getting together. It was kinda how a teenage girl would be at school whenever they talked about their crush.

"_I... didn't think Takei was like that... creepy" _Dominica thought, but it wasn't her main thought of course. "_Does she really feel the same? Now that I think about... I guess her reactions gave it away. Damn I was blind"._

"Hn" Was all Dominica muttered before walking past Junko, who was now bewildered by her reaction and by her simply walking away. She looked over to Dominica who had now re-entered the complex, promptly following her to see what she was going to do... or where she was going for that matter.

But that was an easy question: Don returned to the living room slash kitchen slash dining room, no surprised to find her comfy armchair occupied by a tiny grinning Italian. But she didn't care about that. Walking into the kitchen area, she brought her finger to her slightly opening mouth to remove her chewing gum, and placed it into a bin, and walked over to Jane to stand behind her. Junko looked on curiously and in anticipation, and Martina caught on, looking over to the duo by the kitchen workbench.

Jane noticed Don, giving her a warm smile and a light blush while continuing to finish her stirring; the mix was just about ready. Dipping her right index finger into the mixture, she decided to test the mixture to make sure it was correct. Her finger now coated, she raised her hand out of the bowl and directed her index finger towards her mouth, closing her eyes as she did so.

What surprised her was the warmth that had suddenly enveloped her finger. Noticing that it was not coming from her, she opened her eyes and her face began to transform into a tomato as she saw that her finger had disappeared into Dominicas' mouth, a slight blush on her face but still impassive.

Everyone was looking at the two, Junko and Martina squealing like fangirls with the rest blushing, but not on the same level as Jane.

"Tastes nice." Was all Jane heard as she passed out due to a mixture of embarrassment, shock and joy.

* * *

When Jane woke up she found herself in her room, in her bed with her jacket taken off and hung up on the peg on the door and shoes by the side of the bed. Don had been looking over her with a hint of worry occupying her face, hoping deep down that she hadn't somehow knocked Jane into a coma.

"You ok?" Dominica broke the silence with a more tender monotone voice.

"Uh, yeah... just passed out, that's all" Jane smiled bashfully at her wing-mate and love interest, wondering where the conversation would take them.

"There's something between us, isn't there?" Don, as per usual, went straight to the point, causing Jane to blush once again, but not to the same level as she had done an hour ago before she passed out.

"...do you mean-"

"Yeah... like that." Dominica guessed correctly on what Jane was going to say, wanting to get an answer as soon as possible.

"Um... I... uh-" Jane now heightened awareness of Don made her head shoot up when her when the black haired girl stood up from her chair to walk over to the bed, sitting on the edge calmly. But Jane noticed something rare... unique... something only she and she alone would see:

Dominicas' hand was shaking ever so slightly, and she was clutching her black jacket in an attempt to hide it or control it. Jane reached out and grasped her beloveds hand softly but assuringly. Don looked over, her cool mask slipping, eyes inquisitive. With Dons' hand relaxed, she guided it to her lips, kissing the top of it before looking up with a deep blush but a loving, small smile to face Dominica.

Dons' slight blush grew a percentage, but her worry had faded and had been replaced with a genuine smile. Dominica moved her body towards Jane, careful to not land on her and risk crushing her. She looked directly at the azure eyes of her sunshine, before closing her darker blue versions, placing her lips upon Jane.

The kiss was gentile, living up to Dominicas' name thought Jane, but ultimately it was a release of fear, tensions and a transfer of love between the two, which had developed naturally through hardship, teamwork, and the bond of entrusting their lives to each other.

The night was a confirmation of the love between the two as the intimacy and exploration of each other grew...

The area around the quarters the two resided in was closed off by Commanding Officer Doglio for the next three days and nights.

* * *

The wing were boarding the military jet, it's air force livery stating the obvious that his was no ordinary jet. Federica N. Doglio, the Commanding Officer of the 504th who left the fighting command to Junko Takei, boarded the plane first, followed by the rest of the wing, with the "love-birds" the final to make it aboard. Their panting left much to the imagination of some of the more perverted members of the wing.

Junko sneezed before fastening her seatbelt, asking the others to do the same, specifically Martina. Jane and Don took their seats, obviously next to each, while Fredrica eyed the two, daring Dominica to do something on the flight.

"Hn" Was all she could reply with.

"What is it Don?" Asked Jane, unaware of the exchange between the Commanding Officer and her lover.

"Hm? Nothin' Sunshine."

Jane pouted, her face becoming red once again. "Ahhh don't call me that... it's embarrassing."

If Dominica was that kind of girl, she would have been nose bleeding right there and then.

* * *

_Ok. Sorry if that ending seemed a bit rushed, and why I haven't explained Janes powers which are to be frank the same (well... the energy manipulation part) as Claires. But I will get that done another time. Probably when Fredrica forces the crew to complete a "Welcome to Venice" training session._

_And yes... I think Junko is secretly perverted, though only slightly!. :P Sorry if I don't translate the ages correctly. Consider the ages to be Season 1 ages, so If I have made any mistakes, let me know. And yeah... any grammatical errors, again... let me know so I can fix up or something along those lines._

_Thanks for reading once again! Hope you enjoyed!_


	5. Excuse

_So, we're back onto Claire! As you may have guessed, Claire Herausforderer doesn't follow the trend that pretty much all the canon witches follow, which is being a (to put it frankly) gender-bended, lesbian-y version of real people in history. She is completely unique you could say, and of my own creation... which is fun because it allows me to progress the story in a much free-er way then if I took, say... Helma Lennartz because I would have to make her OOC (out of character), and so on._

_Any way... I like to talk to much, and if I don't stop here I would continue forever! Lets get started shall we?_

_Disclaimer: Don't own Strike Witches or anything related._

_Herausforderer | Courtyard Arc – Chapter 4: Excuse_

* * *

An eerie silence fell in and around the school complex, broken only by the cold winter winds which stung the uncovered skin and eyes, biting at the organ which protected the warm insides within. The reminder of what was inside the human body, flesh and blood that fuelled the body, was still fresh and sickening to even the most toughest minds and biologist. The body which turned out to be a mirage being ripped in two... bones, tendons, arteries... for some it was too much, if they were looking at the tiring fight that had only just ended.

The body of the Rogue lay almost still. She was still breathing, but was obviously not going to be waking up for some time. The simple blob of energy, when directed, could be deadly if enough magic was installed into it. But Claire, despite not using the offspring of her ability for over 3 years, still know what it took to deliver a non-fatal, stunning blow. Many would say that a 14 year old Witch still would have much to learn... but to be fair, the only person who could teach her now was herself.

And what would it be for? Would it ever be enough? She was not one to desire strength alone, but the strength and the will to protect the weak and her friends and comrades. But she had lost her will to fight, and that soon spread to her wish to protect... and when she realised that, she knew in her mind that she had made the right choice in leaving the front-lines and the 501st, and that she would never fight again.

But now? Of course, in times of dire situations, feelings resurface and strengthen. The nostalgia hits you in the gut and amplifies those thoughts and desire, and you end up returning to your old self in a way. But at such times you would also need to once again make the choice you had made in the past, on whether to return to that life of solitude and exile, of giving up and isolation from the world around you. Or to revive your childhood dreams to fill the void that you decided to tear open, once the stitches had been ripped off.

Claires' mind debated once more as she allowed her body to relax in place for the mind which was continuing to work in overtime, over-clocking as she calculated her next move, her feelings, her past.

The first problem though, that she knew must be sorted first, was getting the Rogue out of here before any suspicions were raised. She would rather have a choice in making her mind up than being forced or something much worse considering how martial this government had become thanks to the war. The best way to get rid of the Rogue would probably be phoning the police at the least, saying something along the lines of: "Yeah... we have a beaten-half-to-death Witch here... can you take her away please?"

Claire scanned the crowd that continued to stare at her intently. Some were still shocked about the revelations that this girl was a witch. Some waited for her next move, and others hoped that they wouldn't be on the receiving end of any attacks thanks to their actions over the past weeks, months and years. Claire managed to pick out her friend, who was also a teacher and who knew of her situation every since she arrived.

"_Don't worry. I'm not going to blab to anyone about who you really are."_

"_...how can I trust you to hold your word?" For an 11 year old she was quite smart, knowing full well how to communicate intelligently and calmly, but never letting her guard down and being headstrong despite talking to a figure of authority._

"_I suppose you can't really. I mean, I don't really know you personally, and you don't know me."_

_The young Claire continued to eye the brown haired man, eyebrows furrowed to express her adult like seriousness to display her maturity, her uncovered, green eye drilling into the jet black eyes that held something more... a side effect of age and understanding in that strange, adult like emotion of wisdom. _

"_But time will tell. And I'm sure that as time goes on, you can trust me and talk to me more as we get along without letting the fellow students know about who you really are."_

_A small light bulb light inside Claires head from what the man had just said. It seemed like she could trust him in time, and It would be nice to be able to talk to someone when things got bad. As time went on and the man proved his words, the two regularly met to talk more about Claires past, and all the issues a normal teenage girl would have at school. It was a healthy relationship, and probably the closest person Claire would consider a father of sorts, always understanding and forever trusting._

"Nick!" She called out to the teacher who stood at the front of the crowd by the furthest entrance from the courtyard entrance by the canteen. Nick heard her call and briskly walked towards the scene, guessing internally what Claire was going to order more than ask. He knew that it would involve protecting her identity in some sort of way, at least from the authorities. And it was going to involve some body moving and phone calls.

"Let me guess?! You want me to phone the police?" As Nick closed in on Claire, he turned down the volume of him voice, but he still wanted the other teachers to hear the conversation so it would spare him the effort of going through the 'plan'.

"After you move her to reception, or during. Whatever works, just make sure you clean her up a bit." she spoke in a demanding tone, but said tone was light despite the situation, as if she wanted to make sure that Nick would understand her exactly.

"What's the excuse going to be?" he asked, unsure on how a bit of patching up would solve anything.

"Just make it look like you tasered her... that could be used to explain why there is a big hole in her back." The hole in the clothes and the surrounding cloth were blackened by the extreme resistance caused by the energy, it was now apparent that Rogue had enough time to create a small, weak shield to try and protect her back before the ball of energy crushed it. The squashing effect and the resistance from the two separate energies grinding against each other heated the clothes, creating the charred effect at the edge.

"I suppose the blackening on the edge could be from a fault in the taser, and that would be why she passed out... overcharged her." she excused thoughtfully.

"Ok, we'll use the taser excuse... they won't ask to view the taser right?" Nick questioned rightfully. It would be suspicious to not produce a taser when asked.

"I doubt it. They would be too amazed that you could have done such a thing in the first place, but just go with the flow." Claire answered confidently. But the argument she made cause be flipped, as the questions could indeed be asked. The extraordinary claims must have some sort of answer. But as she said, given the situation and it's high importance, the authorities would likely be keen to sort the issue of apprehending and returning a witch as soon as possible.

Nick sighed. "Right. What about you?"

"What about me?" Claire raised her eyebrows a touch, trying to add a bit of banter to the mad situation.

"Don't mess about now! You know exactly what I mean" The tension and the moment got to Nicks' head, a need growing to get the situations done a dusted.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll just hide in the building somewhere... might go to the sports hall actually. What do you think?" It was if the seriousness of the moment wasn't being taken in by Claire any more, that or she lacked the caring needed to. Her job was done, but it was odd for her...

A trait she hadn't shown for long time.

Nick glared at the ex-Captain with disdain and annoyance. "Just... do what you think is best, ok?"

"I suppose, speak to you later. Make sure none of _them _blab about me." Claire finished, referring to the students venomously, whilst walking towards the entrance into the complex furthest away from the canteen.

"You could say please?!" The was no response. "_Yeah I guessed that much."_

Nick turned his attention to the crowd of students who were now chattering relentlessly, assumptions and guessing of the Witches past dominated the talking points, with some wondering how none of them even wondered and how she never had 'records' about her somewhere on the internet, with the odd one or two conspiracy theorists suggesting censorship from the government or some sort of authority based idea. The teachers demands around them were ignored continuously, the crowd in an almost hysterical state and in a world of their own.

"_This could be difficult..."_

* * *

Claire crossed the short indoor passage to the exterior of the school complex towards the sports hall, which was part of a larger but comparatively smaller complex of music studios and assembly halls. Her pace of walking slowed, allowing her body to relax once more, while also giving rest to her mind, simply letting time wash away the adrenaline which was still prevalent in her body, coursing through her veins and nerves. The cold winter air cooled her body as it made contact with her skin, her sweat aiding in the cooling process. She sighed and began to shiver., as if her body was now resetting to her 'normal' state.

Picking up her walking pace again, though only slightly, she journeyed closer to the double doors of the hall. Crossing the road which allowed the teachers and suppliers in and out of the school complex, passing the filling bins and walking over the worn concrete, she stopped and looked over left shoulder to the sound of high pitched voices. The younger children from the primary site were heading towards the assembly hall, thankfully, and had noticed the teenager, questioning looks occupying their small, young faces. She smiled sympathetically, her thoughts of them not knowing full well the world around them, and the possibility that their fathers and mothers could be somewhere around the world, training or worse, fighting for their country but mostly their lives, being forced to conscript into the military.

Before the children noticed the splatters of blood, she briskly walked once more, entering the unlocked hall, hoping that it wasn't occupied. To her luck, as she peered in to check, it was indeed empty, and her sigh indicated her thankfulness, though she did not know what she was thanking.

Walking in, she placed her hand onto the wall, walking by it (nearly on it) towards the benches. Her intention was to sit on the more comfortable benches, but her body demanded that she sat down now, and so she did. Sliding down the wall, the back of her head hitting the brick layout, she landed roughly, her head thrust downwards, her weary eyes looking at her lap. She wondered distantly, looking back at what she said and what had happened.

"_You're not weak to be fair, I just seem to be overpowered... heh."_

She remembered why her body was now aching and fatigued. Not using her magical energy in such a long time was always going to be draining and difficult to recover from. But the quality of the magic, how powerful it was and how large the reserves were, it affected her body immensely, maybe even damaged it.

It was common for a Witch to now live past certain ages depending on the strength of their magic and how regularly they used it, as well as how much they fought and especially when they pushed themselves beyond the limit. It was like a curse, some would call it that. The stronger you were, the more determined you were, all those good things... could ultimately lead to something bad and even irreversible. The human body was still a human body, and whether you were a Witch or not, it would be affected in the same way, and be damaged by overuse. Even moderate uses of magic could be determined as overuse, simply because it put the body into overdrive. Some Witches were lucky, born with traits (or developed through time) that protected the body, and if not their body, someone else, such as the healing Witches.

But even then, to go even deeper, a select few of those could develop techniques of healing themselves during battle, protecting their body while using more of their magical energy. A double edged sword of protecting yourself while at the same time reducing the amount of time you can protect others. But it didn't stop Witches trying to find that perfect compromise, or eliminating the drawback all together.

Claire remembered from time ago, looking at the history and legends of Witches when she was a young 'Witch in training', a Witch from Greece born over a hundred years ago who fought in the First World War, who claimed to be a descendant from a healing clan known as the Asclepiads. Stories tell of her healing hundreds, even thousands of Allied troops at a time. From the beginning on the Eastern Front for the then imperial Russians, to later on for the Greeks and the Slavic states north of Greece, who bravely fought for their country... and even ultimately for their independence from the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

Her advanced ability to protect her body, while not compromising the strength and longevity of her magically reserves for the troops, was famed across the eastern theatre of the war. One of many stories claims that she survived 16 machine gun bullets which penetrated vital areas of her body, while at the same time saving troops from similar wounds. The legend of the Witch was never questioned, simply admired... a target and role model for so many Witches, whether they could heal or not at all.

Before the Witch could be rewarded with the highest military medal of Greece of that time, the "Cross of Valour", she mysteriously disappeared during the final days of the war, when the allies advanced further into occupied Central Power territories, into the powers themselves at points. Some claim the war affected her mind to such an extent she committed suicide, her body saved by "magical Gods". Some even think she was captured... but by whom? No one could of known.

Claire lifted up her thudding head, her body becoming more responsive and less painful, but the rhythmic ache that pulsed through her head remained. She looked around the dim, spacious hall. Her half-lidded eyes traced the marking along and across the floor and she continued looking back at the fight.

_"All Witches are strong. So strong that they would risk their lives to protect people, especially the ones they love..." _

The teenager was surprised that she didn't falter at the end of that little speech, considering everything she never had, gained and then lost, then rubbed with salt by going against the very words she said.

"_I'm not strong... what was I thinking?" _Her questioning tormented her, her faults and fallibility angered her, including the hypocrisy that she considered blatant.

"_But I lost that last part, and I turned against my morals and the Witches by abandoning my squad and everyone we sought to protect..."_

She looked straight ahead, eyebrows furrowed.

_"Don't make that mistake, don't be like me. You have so much to fight for, and so much to give."_

Growing annoyed at her failing to convince the Rogue to give up her vendetta of sorts against Claire, she smashed her right hand into the wall behind her, the paint that glossed the bricks to give a more concrete ambient cracked, flakes sticking to the side of her hand. Flicking the small pieces of dried paint off her bruising hand, she stood up, eyes still half-lidded, gracing a smile that wasn't happy, more 'how bad can it get?'.

Her smile of sorts turned into a menacing grin as she walked towards the punching bag on the opposite side of the hall...

* * *

"_You're kidding right?"_

"No, we need the police over her as soon as possible. I doubt we can restrain her again."

Nick was currently talking to a 911 responder, who was in a state of disbelief, something that was not very surprising.

"_...one moment please." _Responded the receiver, who was now putting Nick through to a more important person. Nick waited for just under a minute before he heard commotion on the other end of the line. Looking behind his shoulder, the students who had been asked very, _very _firmly and threateningly to not say anything about the events that had just taken place, had begun to go home early. The teachers attempted to hurry them away, knowing that the authorities would soon arrive and likely begin asking the most likely people to tell the truth.

"_Where do you want us to go?" _The snappy and unexpected voice that drilled down the right ear of Nick startled him, nearly dropping the phone in the process. Steadying himself, he answered quickly.

"Evergreenacademyoaksite"

"_Sir, you need to say that a little slower. I know the situation is daunting and very difficult, but please stay calm." _The man on the other end of the phone, though slightly annoyed and pressing, was understanding about the situation described to him by the receiver on the desk.

"Sorry, Evergreen Academy, Oak Site. On the edge of the Sneinton suburb. Do you need any more details?"

"_No, that's fine. We'll be there as soon as possible. Please, if you have not already, send the students and children home to guarantee their safety as well as giving us the space to proceed with apprehending the Witch." _The man replied sternly in a very stereotypical authoritarian voice, and hung up before Nick could state that the action had already been taken.

Sighing, he put the phone back onto the phone holder on the reception desk, walked over to the comfy, autumn red chairs and sat down without taking much care in making sure that he didn't knock anything on the desk adjacent over. He was calm, he told himself. But the situation had overwhelmed him, everyone in fact if that wasn't clear to the onlookers outside the circle of lies to protect one person.

"_If this place is attacked I will defend it!"_

The 37 year old man jumped at the flashback of the 11 year old Claire, only a few days after they first talked. She was like the daughter he never had, as if she was the reason he had 2 sons and not a single baby girl, fate had decided to instead give him this young British yet German or vice versa Witch. He had the feeling that Claire felt a similar way... they talked a lot, about many things. But she was still cold to the past, and never keen on revealing much unless it was a small detail that she had to dish out to explain something or add to the conversations topic.

"You ok?" Nick jumped once more, looking up from his knees to Sarah Teal, the science teacher who taught Claire for the past 2 years. He ginger hair and surname suggestive teal eyes stood her out from many of the other teacher for less than welcome reasons from the students. Her kind nature worn down and constantly tested by the acts of the worse of the worse students, and those who seemed to flip between nice and awkward to handle day by day. None the less, her smile always shone out, even if at times it seemed forced.

But this smile now was genuine, but mixed with concern with the mental state of her colleague under question.

"I'm fine." Sarah raised her eyebrows questioning. "Yes I'm sure, knock it off!". Laughing slightly regardless of the situation, Sarah giggling in return and the pre-emptive response.

"Good, good. Just checking." Both teachers now had a small smile upon their faces, comforted by each others company and friendliness. But it did not stop an awkward silence from falling, Sarahs' aura became curious, as she wondered what the relationship was between her friend and the young 14 year old.

"I'm guessing you two are on an equal footing? Know the situation and... well, stuff?" A simple question to answer quickly, she knew not to hassle him but instead be given a definitive response to be picked apart late.

"Yeah... don't really know how to explain the whole deal right now. I can tell you later if you don't mind? You know, after everything had died down a bit?" He was weary from the events, and as much as he wanted to get the story off his chest now, it was not really the time for it.

"Of course, I'm always here to listen and help." Sarah proceeded to sit down beside the man, patting his back to give him reassurance.

* * *

A final crash of a fist hitting an abused and torn punching bag echoed around the hall, followed by the thud of a teenage body landing on the floor in exhaustion.

"_I shouldn't have done that... but damn that feels much, much better!" _Her conscious shouted to herself, a grin spreading across her face, burst open by her near hysterical laughing. The events of the day seemed distance as she looked further into a past, looking back at her training sessions when she was a weak, clumsy child back in Berlin. Her mind shut off the next part, her teacher coming into view... the one that cared for her so dearly in such a short space of time.

"_Just got rid of the depression, don't want it back." _She concluded, picking her self up by pushing her body up using her arms to balance and allow her legs to be brought forward. Thrusting her upper body upwards, she nearly fell over by the sheer force of her action, and the ache that shot up her back, still sore from the fight and the shock-waves that pulsed like a drum through her body as she destroyed the punching bag, which proceeded to snap off the stand immediately after the pain died down.

Dropping into a defensive state, she realised that is was the mess of leather and foam and so on that had caused the noise, making her laugh a touch as well as dropping her stance.

She pondered whether to wait a little longer before leaving the sports hall, keen on not making a stupid little error which could have massive consequences. On that note, she decided to run laps around the hall.

* * *

"_Nothing wrong with a bit of exercise to waste some time, no?"_

4 dozen police officers left the building, carrying or surrounding the still comatose body of the Rogue. Half a dozen remained to aid asking questions, including a senior official from the British Home Army, a reserve division in a sense, formed to provide backup for any domestic disturbance, to worse an invasion by the Neuroi. The man appeared very keen to make sure he missed nothing, and to make sure nothing was afoot.

"So that is what happened? Nothing or no-one else intervened?" The bearded man asked, his army cap darkening out his eyes, but his jet black escaped by the sides and the back of his neck.

"No, there were three of us. We tricked her, stunned her twice and placed her in the medical room until you arrived." Nick was, to his luck, a keen player of poker, and his poker face was renowned for being undetectable and near-perfect. But he was still worried, still concerned that the official before would figure out something more, and pick out his lies question by agonizing question.

There was a long pause. Sarah, who had already been questioned, looked over at the sight. She felt as if something was amidst... that something was wrong with that red-capped, army green uniformed man. But she couldn't put her finger to it.

"Ok. That is all we need to know. Well done, we are very sorry for the trouble that has occurred. We will keep an eye on the girl for a while." The man turned around, and calmly and sure-footedly, exited the building.

When Nick knew that the police were all gone, he let out a huge sigh, and nearly allowed himself to sit down onto the floor beneath him... before he realised something.

There was no reason to believe that the Rogue would not say anything.

A pain entered Nicks' chest and stomach as he hoped against hope that the Rogue developed amnesia, and forget the events that were so very clear and memorable.

* * *

_Chapter 4... done! Hope you enjoyed the read... we'll continue from here next time!_


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